


Life At An Alternate Pace

by BuickRegalRacecar56



Category: Cars (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 08:48:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12407100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuickRegalRacecar56/pseuds/BuickRegalRacecar56
Summary: Rod Redline liked being a spy. But he really loved being a pace car. AU, Rod Redline didn't die in Cars 2 and instead got a chance to choose an alternate career.





	Life At An Alternate Pace

“So there I was, at a complete standoff with this absolute prick of a Camaro, who just would not budge no matter what I threaten him with, and who I was certain would absolutely launch those missiles if I let up even an inch. And you know what the guy tries to get me with? Hey buddy, your hubcap’s loose!” The small group of racers laughed.

“You tell the best stories, man!” The 24 car- Rod couldn’t remember what exactly his name was, he was still trying to keep track of who was who outside of McQueen- was as always absolutely enthralled by his stories. After all, to them, they were just stories. 

“Hey, what can I say, I gotta keep myself entertained somehow when all I do is wait around.” This got another laugh out of the crew, and somewhere from the infield came the 30 minute warning for last checks before race time. The racers said their goodbyes and hurried off, and Rod found his way to his spot.

As much as he’d liked being a spy, it was a whole hell of a lot more fun being a pace car. 

He’d been lucky to make it out of Tokyo; another American agent had seen what happened and followed him and had gotten him out of the country and back home, where it’d taken quite awhile to repair all the damage that had been done. By the time he’d finally gotten all fixed up, someone from HQ had come around a few times, checking to see if he was having doubts about going back into the job. Of course he was having doubts- he’d nearly died before, but not like that. It’d really made him think, especially since his wife Sarah came by- alone, she didn’t want to put the kids through seeing their dad that messed up, and he didn’t blame her- and he realized that maybe it might be a good idea to get out while he could.

In a way, Rod Redline did die; the agency decided it was the better part of valor to make that an official statement just in case any of the cars from that particular incident ever found their way out again and were interested in exacting revenge. Because it was more his decision than theirs, they picked their new names- his wife became Helen, and their daughters became Eliza and Casey. Sarah- Helen, he had to keep telling himself- had been a little judgemental of the fact he picked James as his name. It’d been his dad’s, and she’d been worried that that might help any enemies find him. He didn’t figure the name Jimmy Nitro was going to draw too much attention, and his daughters thought that Nitro was a way cooler last name than Redline.

The agency had given him a pretty good send off when he left, but even with all the money they gave him, it still wasn’t enough to keep him going. Then came the problem of finding a job that didn’t background check too hard and end up finding the holes that came with his new identity.

As it turned out, the Piston circuit was hiring a pace car about that time, because long time pace car Charlie Checker was retiring. And lo and behold, they really weren’t too concerned with what background a car had, so long as you could keep up with the rules and regulations. Sa-Helen had almost told him not to try, worried that he’d be too exposed as a pace car for such a well known sport, what with every race being broadcast on TV and the like, but as it turned out, that might have been the safest bet. Save for McQueen’s pit crew apparently consisting of that tow truck from Japan, but he had a few tricks he could use to make sure the truck never recognized him. It would have been hard to anyways- the snazzy Official Piston Cup Pace Car paint job was easily ignored by anyone not on the track.

Granted, he had a lot to learn still about the sport and the cars in it. He’d never followed racing; his daughters did, and were quick to fill him on what they knew, but it was all mostly related to either Lightning McQueen or Cal Weathers. Or Francesco Bernoulli. Really, he had no idea why they were so interested in the European Circuit, but they were still willing to enthusiastically spill every detail they could about what they knew. So he knew not to bring up Chick Hicks, because apparently the guy was all kinds of a jerk. He knew that Strip Weathers had won the Piston Cup 7 times, making him some kind of living legend. He knew all kinds of tidbits he really didn’t need to know, but he could hardly remember names.

Either way, he got to do something that was surprisingly relaxing. Sure, there were wrecks, and sometimes even he wasn’t so sure if anyone trash talking Cal Weathers was being serious or not, but him and his family took this job as a chance to travel the country as a family. Helen homeschooled their girls, and they got free tickets for every race, which the girls were absolutely thrilled about. He’d even snuck them into the pit area after a race once so they could meet McQueen, and even though Helen had been a little peeved that he did that, she couldn’t deny that it was a sweet thing to do. 

If anything, they were happier now. After all, he wasn’t on missions all over the world, missing things in his daughters lives, missing anniversaries with his wife, missing holidays and such. He did miss the adventure of it, getting to see places in the world that were as beautiful as they were filled with dangers both known and unknown. But there were definitely perks to being a pace car. 

After all, the racers had no reason to believe that good old Jimmy Nitro had ever even been out of the country, much less stopped someone from launching missiles or stopping the world’s gas supply, or anything of that nature. So to them these elaborate tales of international espionage were just stories, and it gave him a bit of an outlet to talk about all the adventures he’d been on without repurcussions.

He’d never thought there’d be a time in his life where he was okay spending more time idle than doing something to, well, save the world, but damned if he wasn’t way happier now than he’d been in his dream job.


End file.
